State of the Mythos
by Regina Demonica
Summary: The Old Ones and a group of their human underlings gather to discuss the fate of the Mythos in today's world. Chaos ensues. A humor-oriented Mythos fic.


This story, _State of the Mythos_, is a change of pace from my more serious Mythos stories and is meant to be more humor-oriented and somewhat lighter in spirit.

Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing!

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"Ahem. Are you all here?"

Cthulhu, high priest of the Great Old Ones, tugged at the sleeve of his business suit with one of his tentacles. He did not like the fancy dress required for his role as head of the meeting, as it almost completely destroyed his imposing atmosphere. It would be impossible for him to drive his underlings insane in such ridiculous getup. Chances were that the other alien deities and beings (the humans, of course, were more sensible than to do this) were already laughing at him behind his back.

Especially Nyarlathotep.

He _hated_ Nyarlathotep.

None of the others had to submit to this humiliation, but as the mascot and global symbol of the Mythos, he had no other option but to comply. He was, though, by no means pleased with this and made a mental note to have the entity which first came up with the idea thrown to the shoggoths after business. Already they were there, Elder Gods, Old Ones, servitor beings, Mi-Go, Elder Things, Deep Ones, and even the odd human. The representatives in particular, with only a few exceptions, seemed like they were uncomfortable with the situation already, although no doubt for their own reasons. Each one was called to represent their region's role in the Cthulhu Mythos. Two of those called, Herbert West and Randolph Carter, had already decided to be absent from the assembly.

There were four of them who came; Henry Armitage had come on behalf of Miskatonic University and the city of Arkham, and was easily the most anxious out of the lot. Cthulhu could tell by his pallid demeanour that he wanted to finish the meeting as quickly as possible and preferably without getting on the bad side of any of the more _eldritch_ guests, and preferably with all of his limbs still intact. He had originally intended to send another professor in his place, but in a fit of nerve had decided to attend personally. He already seemed to regret it.

Zadok Allen arrived to stand for Innsmouth; the Marsh family had initially raised a great deal of complaint about Cthulhu's choice, arguing that their role in the Mythos as a whole was far more important than that of Allen, but conciliation ended in favor of the latter. Zadok, though, would have gladly backed out of the commitment had Cthulhu not enforced his presence. He was, to his credit, trying to seem confident, at least as confident as a person surrounded by a crowd of Deep Ones could possibly be. The Marshes had come regardless, probably hoping to see the hapless Zadok humiliate himself in public and thus reassert their role in the next meeting.

The selection of delegate for Dunwich was far less problematic. Wilbur Whateley had unanimously been chosen for the duty (with the loyal support of his twin brother, of course). Yog-Sothoth was justifiably very proud of his offspring, and much to Cthulhu's irritation wouldn't simply _be quiet _about the boy. Not that he didn't value Wilbur, naturally, as the Whateleys had their uses, but he was somewhat annoyed that he appeared to be the only Old One out of them all without any unnatural or demented offspring to call his own.

Cthulhu was jealous of Yog-Sothoth, reminding himself that he had more fans, he was the most globally famous Old One, he had the attention, and he had the fans. All Yog-Sothoth had was the two Whateleys. Pathetic.

The last of the human representatives was Henry Wentworth Akeley of Vermont. He seemed calm and self-assured, flanked by a pack of winged crustacean Mi-Go who seemed to serve as his bodyguards. Cthulhu had never been called to deal with Henry before, but had heard from one of his agents on Yuggoth that the man was cocksure and shifty, never to be trusted. Akeley was somewhat dazed and unsteady on his feet, not fully used to his old human form, having spent some time as a disembodied brain in the Mi-Go laboratories. He would not have been the first choice for his duty, but he was practically the only Vermonter in the Mythos.

"What about Walter Brown?" one of the Mi-Go had suggested earlier. "He is from Vermont, too."

"No. He never did turn up at our reunion fifty years ago, remember? He's even _less_ trustworthy than Henry, if such a thing is possible."

Trying to keep his atmosphere, the Old One decided to open the discussion.

"This meeting is now called to order." The delegates looked to Cthulhu, who slammed a scaly fist on his desk. "All right, you lot. The reason that you are here today is for our centennial 'State of the Mythos' gathering, during which we will discuss how well each of you has done with the times. It has now been close to a hundred years since all of us were generated, and I am interested in the strength of our genre in this trobled period. Professor Armitage of Miskatonic University, you may speak first."

Armitage coughed into his sleeve before getting up. "Ah. Yes. I have a good deal to report; the University has not been neglected in the twenty-first century, I am pleased to say. Student levels are as high as they were a hundred years ago, if not higher. I can also state with confidence that the amount of occult _incidents_ at my school have not stooped or lowered. Professors Wilmarth and Peaslee, although sadly unable to attend this meeting, report similar findings to mine."

Cthulhu waved a paw dismissively, and Armitage tensed. "You may be seated, Professor. It is your turn now, Mr. Allen of Innsmouth, to speak. Do you have anything to say?"

Zadok rose, the Deep Ones next to him hissing and gurgling. "My report is the same as Armitage's for the most part, sir. My mates here," he said, indicating the ichthyic creatures at his side, "have fared durn well recently. I ain't been so lucky, but ah, well. I'm all right with that, I guess."

"I am pleased to hear that the Deep Ones have not been thrown aside by time, Mr. Allen," Cthulhu hissed, "and one of us is very pleased with your report."

Dagon, in the corner, raised a clawed hand and grunted in salute. Zadok Allen quivered at the sound before slouching back to his chair, visibly attempting to avoid the Deep Ones' fishy odor by using a hankerchief that he was fortunate enough to find in his pocket to cover his nose and mouth.

_Perhaps I _should_ have chosen Obed or one of the other Marshes instead. _

Cthulhu sighed, pointing to Wilbur Whateley, who straightened at once.

"Yes, my Lord? What do you wish of me?"

Cthulhu felt like putting a paw to his head. _And _I_ am supposed to be the mind-shattering horror in this genre._ "I wish for your _report_, Wilbur. How has Dunwich fared in modern times?"

Wilbur glanced at his father, Yog-Sothoth, for approval before speaking. "Yes, the report, my Lord. Right away." He pulled out a piece of paper and began to read off of it. "Well, my family and I have had the lion's share of attention, I am proud to say. We do not seem to have much trouble adapting and I am fascinated with all of my new relatives..." He cleared his throat and took a position beside Cthulhu. "I would like to thank the following people, Old Ones, and other entities for my success. Firstly, my father and inspiration Yog-Sothoth." The audience politely applauded as Wilbur indicated the Great Old One. "Secondly, my mummy Lavinia." More applause, although weaker. One of the humans rolled his eyes in boredom.

"By Azathoth," groaned Nyarlathotep. "Can someone get Wilbur off the podium? We have one last human speaker scheduled for tonight." He checked the program as a group of Deep Ones dressed as security guards pulled Wilbur back to his chair. "Mr. Henry Akeley, would you kindly stand?"

"Finally," Akeley muttered as he got up to face Cthulhu. "Unlike the rest of you lot, I do have something to say." A Mi-Go by his side spread out its wings menacingly. "We Akeleys have been sadly neglected in this new era of the Mythos for the most part, and I do not see why. My son George, although away on his own business, has reported that his reputation in particular has suffered. I have done well enough for myself, of course, but we have gotten far less attention than we deserve." He shot Wilbur a sly look. "Such a pity, since my family has some degree of breeding, unlike those disgusting, _uncouth_ Whateleys." Wilbur rose with a roar of anger and charged Akeley, knocking him to the floor.

It took three Mi-Go and four security guards to pull the fighting pair apart, both glowering at each other from their seats and whispering threats.

"Listen, Akeley. Watch your step, or I'll set my twin brother on you the first chance I get and it won't be pretty."

"Hah! You call that a threat? If I give my people the signal I can have you packaged up and sent to Yuggoth in a heartbeat!"

One of the Mi-Go buzzed to another, whose head glowed a vivid red.

"Oi, you two!" Akeley barked. "Stop talking about me behind my back!" The pair of Mi-Go gave an angry _skzzz _in protest and Wilbur laughed.

"You could set your people on me, if they listened to a word you said!"

"Why, you-!"

"Shut up, you two, before I have you both fed to the Hounds of Tindalos!" Henry and Wilbur both quieted at once.

"All right, then," Cthulhu told the audience, reminding himself to never, ever bring Wilbur Whateley and Henry Akeley to a meeting together again. "Since the human speakers are finished, we can let the Old Ones speak. I, although this is completely against my will, am their representative."

"So, Lord Cthulhu, how are we doing?"

"Very well, in fact. We have appeared in books, entered pop culture, theatre (I think), some useless B-movies, and various other memorabilia. All in all, it is safe to say that the Cthulhu Mythos will survive well into this century." The deities and humans in the audience cheered and whooped. "And now that we are finished, you may be dismissed. And do remember that I am not responsible for any bodily harm due to Nightgaunt attacks."

The group, chittering and gossiping, slowly left the room. Allen managed to ditch his Deep One escorts and escaped through the door. Wilbur and Akeley, still hating each other passionately, swore to find a way to settle their rivalry before Henry called a Mi-Go down with a sharp whistle to fly him back to his home territory in Vermont.

Cthulhu, Yog-Sothoth, and Nyarlathotep were left alone, the squid god still simmering.

"All right," Cthulhu told them, "who was the one who came up with the business suit? Nyarlathotep, was it you? Don't you dare deny it, I see you smirking! In the next century I'll make you wear the suit instead! Do you hear me? You will pay for this, miscreant! I will make you pay-hear me?"

Meanwhile, underneath a fallen table, Henry Armitage lay quivering and waited for the trio of Old Ones to leave the building.

"I _knew_ that I should have sent Wilmarth instead..."


End file.
